


The Approaching Curve

by verovex



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Ed Can’t Read Subtext, Ed’s Still Not One Hundred Percent, M/M, Oswald Offers a Solution, Set in S4, The Narrows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 09:06:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12791292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verovex/pseuds/verovex
Summary: “You smell like a sewer.”“You look like you’ve been living in one.”Wherein Oswald makes a trip to the Narrows to recover Firefly, but is more intent on personally handling Ed’s libellous travesties. In turn, he makes an unexpected proposition.





	The Approaching Curve

**Author's Note:**

> _”You have no idea who I am.”_ #26 from pleasepromptme’s angsty dialogue prompt’s [list](https://cobblepotcrimefamily.tumblr.com/post/167910501527/angsty-dialogue-prompts)… can you tell there’s a theme brewing?

“Where are we?” One of two hired help asks, loading a magazine into his rifle.

Oswald looks from the large marble archways, ‘ _Wayne Botanical Gardens_ ’ inscribed along the curve, then rotates on his heel to scrutinize the vile smell dwindling in from across the road.

 _Union Avenue_ stood as an ironic border, between the well-kept gardens and downtown core, versus the evidence of Gotham’s decay and neglect within the Narrows. Now in the middle of the night, the Narrows is alive with activity, burning steel drums lighting the way into its core, while the Gardens are quiet, its focal point —the Greenhouse— locked until the morning.

Not that the Greenhouse was what Oswald needed access to, he had sights on the water fountain, more specifically the shed behind it, and what lay beneath it.

“The Gateway to Hell,” Fries replies, as no one else seems to, moving to stand at Oswald’s left, his steps marking the sidewalk with ice. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Despite your disdain for her, we’re here to retrieve an asset,” Oswald confirms, slightly irritated this had been the third time someone had asked him to re-evaluate his involvement in that evening’s plans.

“That can be done without you, Boss.” Zsasz approaches to his right. Now it’s a fourth. “The folks in the Narrows aren’t particularly fond of you.”

“If Selina Kyle’s intel is sound, no one will even know we were here.” Oswald uses his cane to point towards the shed. The group of five head via its direction, Oswald in the centre. The shed housed an entrance to Gotham’s underground passageways, unknown to the GCPD, who had tried to maintain control over them by having them all inaccessible, except this one. Oswald points towards the inept chain that is keeping the door sealed. “Victor, if you wouldn’t mind.” Both Victors glance at one another, Oswald refraining from palming at his face. “ _Fries_.”

Fries does as he’s instructed, aiming the freeze gun at the chain, pulling back on the trigger as the beam landed on its target, snapping the chain and lock off.

“Did Cat forget to mention the passageway is flooded with sewer water?” Zsasz called from inside, once they had located the hidden cellar door. The two hired men had moved down the petite staircase first, weapons clanging as they manoeuvred.

Oswald moved into the shed, understanding from the smell, why Zsasz had asked. Likely no one had used the entrance in decades, easily deduced by the cobwebs and dust, but it was intensely musty. The walls that lined the staircase were clammy, and as he finally came upon the last step, the passageway was walkable, but indeed flooded with muddy, thick water with varying levels of excrements that produced an even more foul odour while underground.

“Let’s just,” Oswald starts, tempted to entirely retreat, due to the smell alone, but also the numerous rodents scurrying along the edges of stone walls, his now ruined oxfords, and certain there was no dry cleaning in the world that would be able to remove _whatever_ liquid was caked to the bottom of his overcoat. “Keep moving.”

Selina’s information had been correct. It had taken an hour’s worth of strutting through literal _shit_ to find the fork along the path, turning West as informed, to land at a door that read ‘ _the Mutants_ ’. Fries moved in first, up another slim set of stairs, along with the two henchmen. Oswald had already briefed him on where Firefly would be, as she’d been the only reason Selina had been so cooperative. She still harboured sentiment for one of her oldest friends, even if that meant going against her current associates.

Oswald’s personal motive hadn’t been to retrieve Firefly. Even if Leslie Thompkins wasn’t the same warm-hearted soul she’d been in previous years, he knew she would likely patch her up best she could, and send Firefly _eventually_ on her way.

He was here to stop one of Ed’s acts or witness it, he hadn’t been entirely sure on the specifics of when they went on. Cherry being killed had blocked all communication between his area of the underworld, and the Narrows. She always kept him informed, from who was fighting, when, _what_ Ed had been doing, and his cohort in Lee.

“Can’t I drag him down here? Maybe we drown him a little bit in that water until he agrees to stop putting on the show?” Zsasz asked from behind Oswald as they moved up the stairs.

“Tempting, but no, Victor.”

Sure enough, the basement level of Cherry’s was barren. All the spectators were likely already moving to surround the ring on the second level, which meant Oswald was either too late in stopping it, or early to the show. Down the hall, they could make out a silhouette from the farthest room, Oswald canted his head towards it, Zsasz nodding in response, removing one of his pistols from its holster.

As they come up towards it, a man appears from the adjacent doorway, eyes mostly shut, cradling a cheap bottle of whiskey. He looked bewildered, between Zsasz and Oswald. The duo stood in place, neither wanting to cause a commotion with gunshots. The drunk man finally seems to come to a realization, pointing a shaky finger in Oswald’s direction, slurring out, “you’re... that _guy,_ you’re the Penguin!” Before promptly falling face first into the floor with a thunk.

This alerts the occupant of the room they’d been headed towards, the wooden floor creaking as they moved towards the hallway. Wearing no glasses, and a getup Oswald was trying to decide if Ed had sewn himself, Ed looks down at the man’s unconscious body, then slowly tries to focus on the individuals in the hallway.

“You two didn’t kill Frank, did you?” Ed asks, indifferent about his visitors.

“That’s your concern?” Oswald hissed, swatting the man with his shoe, “for this belligerent drunk?”

He might not have had his full mental faculties, but Ed knew that Oswald’s arrival was inevitable. After the trio had left the establishment (thankfully without Grundy), he still kept up his act, to help Lee transition into her role, and make it seem like nothing had changed, even under new leadership.

“You smell like a sewer,” Ed noted, moving back into the room where he’d been, nestling into the stool next to a rack of clothing.

“You look like you’ve been living in one.” Oswald counters, following him, pausing a few feet away, most of his weight on his cane as he scowled at the drabness of the room. The entire building gave off an aura of dread. Perhaps that was a characteristic of the Narrows as a whole. “I’m not here to exchange pleasantries.”

Zsasz closed the door to the room, leaning against it as he watched the two interact.

“I didn’t suspect you would. Not that I expected,”  _your lame_ —Ed paused, choosing his words. He’d taken on the role of mocking Oswald for weeks now, he needed to be careful that that manner of speaking would not bleed into the conversation. “I didn’t think you made house calls anymore, Oswald.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you hadn’t extinguished my ally.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Ed stated quickly, a finger in the air. “Lee’s got her all fixed up. She’s just upstairs, so if that’s all you came here for, best be on your way.”

Ed briskly raises from the seat, meandering towards the rack of clothing, brushing through various hangers, making a point of looking busy, instead of looking towards his former friend. Oswald being there was _unsettling._

“More urgent matters to tend to, Ed?” Oswald tapped his finger against his cane, watching Ed’s hand travel down a glimmering green suit jacket. _What an atrocity_.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” He _was_ supposed to begin imitating Oswald in ten minutes.

“I have a proposition for you.” Oswald is surprised as the words leave him, this hadn’t been a part of why he’d shown up, but he was compelled to change their course. He’d left Ed to his own devices, to attempt to find himself, and progress had been slow. Oswald understood that being lost was a difficult battle, and this had been his fault— _their fault_ —they were both to blame. Ed not being who he used to be, was their fault. A shared burden of pain, even while they walked different paths.

Ed perked up, hands falling to their respective sides, side-eyeing Oswald. “And that is what exactly?”

“Well, it seems my Narrows informant has passed away, _so_ , how about you take her place?”

Ed scoffed, finally annoyed with how blurry the room was, reaching into the hanging suit jacket’s pocket to pull out his glasses, pushing them up on the ridge of his nose as he properly looked at Oswald. _When had they last spoke?_ “Why would I do that?”

“I was fuelling Cherry’s operations, now she’s dead. Lee and I aren’t on cordial terms, and from what I heard, she blew through most of her life’s savings.” Oswald shrugged. “And I understand that you and her have an arrangement, she helps you get your intellect back, you pay her to do so. Can’t do that if neither of you has a source of income.”

“We can find another way—“

“If you’re refusing my help, it’s worth mentioning I can just as easily burn this place to the ground without Firefly’s aid.” Oswald begins a pace around the small room, with an attached condescending tone. “I can start by preventing liquor delivery, and we know how important alcohol is to a bunch of subservients. Then, I’ll submit a few anonymous tips to the GCPD about particular illegal activities, Captain Gordon is on a moralistic rampage, and will jump at the chance to make an example of the Narrows. Then, when Lee has no patrons, she’ll have to give up her practice, and drown her sorrows, leaving you with no viable solutions to fix your current status.”

Ed weighed his options. There was only one. He didn’t want Oswald to have the upper hand, but as per usual, he was steps ahead of Ed. _Why was he so invested in this?_ Ed having his intellect back meant Ed could make another attempt at his life. Recently that line of thinking seemed hazy, being on a different end of the underworld had given him a change in perspective. Not that Ed had necessarily stopped thinking of Oswald as his enemy, but the change had given him justification for them to work in symbiotic synchronicity versus in constant animosity. He didn’t know how to broach it, was still working out the kinks in his interpretation of it. He couldn’t comprehend its depth, _yet._

This deal with Oswald helped him control what information would get out, and when it could work in his benefit, _for_ his benefit, and he’d be paid at the same time. He just still didn’t understand the _why_ of it.

“Why?” Ed asks, observing Oswald halt in his pacing.

“Why not?” Oswald retorts, looking away to pull at his sleeve to check the time. As if on cue, a commotion erupts from the floor above. Fries always knew how to meet a timing.

“I know you. There’s an ulterior motive here—“

“You have _no_ idea who I am.” Oswald declares threateningly, causing Ed’s breath to hitch. “Consider it a donation.”

“I don’t need your pity money.”

“I never said I found you pitiful.”

There’s a moment shared between the two, when Oswald’s sharp expression softens, meeting Ed’s conflicted glance, that seems to alter their dynamic wordlessly. It’s something Zsasz has to break by clearing his throat, trying to make Oswald cognizant of the little time they had.

“Deal? You keep me informed, I’ll keep you well-funded.” Oswald steps towards Ed, extending a hand.

“Fine.” Ed sighs, reluctantly congruent. He returns the gesture, although his grip on Oswald’s hand tightens as the kingpin tries to pull back. “Have Olga add baking soda to the detergent, and distilled white vinegar in the final wash, to help remove the stains and smell from your clothes.”

Oswald’s brow furrowed, finally able to retract his hand, opening his mouth to make a comment on Ed needing a proper shower, but they’re interrupted by the sounds of Fries and the henchmen loudly making their way down the stairs; effectively sending Zsasz and Oswald flying out the door as gunshots echoed around the building.

Once they’ve made it safely back to the Gardens, with two fewer henchmen (dead somewhere back in the passageway), but with a reclaimed Firefly, they make a trek back to the town car waiting up the street. Zsasz pointedly stays behind as Fries and Firefly begin to argue, choosing to match Oswald’s slower pace.

“Boss, you already paid off the doc last week in exchange for supplying her medical needs, why allow them to double dip?” Zsasz mentions, once Fries and Bridgit are out of earshot. Oswald doesn’t respond, which is enough for his longest paid employee to know that was code for, ‘ _shut up, Victor._ ’

Once they’re settled into the leather seats, on the road back to the Lounge, Oswald feels the dull ache of growing distance between him and the Narrows, despite it being dilapidated and ghastly.

Oswald hadn’t really wanted to leave without Ed, and judging by the unmistakable, pleading look in Ed’s eyes, he hadn’t wanted Oswald to leave without him either. Even if it _was_ absolutely necessary.


End file.
